Through the Veil and What Walter Found There
by Mantinas
Summary: Walter has killed himself, his eleventh Sacrament, and after a small romp through the void, finds himself face-to-face with a monster.


Mantinas: A play on the title to the sequel of Alice in Wonderland, which is a play on this, since this happens before the events in the game. Another thing; I wanted to write a story about Little Walter, but it fell through due to writer's block. I like this better than that, anyway when it comes to how he comes into being. I hope you like this.

Warning: Hints of rape and deception.

Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill 4: The Room nor anything to do with it.

* * *

><p>It was dark and cold, wherever it was he was at the moment, that he could barely make out his hand when he placed it right before his face. His body shivered as he wandered aimlessly, though he had to wonder if it wasn't also due to the fear he felt at the moment.<p>

So many things were uncertain, but the most problematic of them all was; did the ritual work? He hoped so for Mother's sake. Oh how he longed to see her face, the face of the one human who could show him the love and compassion he never experienced before.

An image of him as a child curled up on one of the uncomfortable beds in the Tower, tears trickling down his cheeks. A girl screamed from the room next to his, a familiar grunt soon following. DeSalvo.

The image soon fades. Eileen, a little girl, so pretty and naïve. She hands a younger him a doll. Just then he feels a weight in his hand and without seeing it, he feels the soft texture and knows it's the doll and clutches it tightly as he continues on. He needs the comfort right now, and this little piece of fabric always worked as a substitute. Though why he keeps walking he has no clue, nor any idea why the direction(whichever way he took) he chose to go. But it feels right and that's all he has to go on.

The amount of time it took since he obtained the doll to this; he has no clue. But the hope that was dwindling rises when he sees the light. Faint and red, almost burgundy was over in the distance. A chuckle escapes him as he begins running towards it, his movements are like that of a man running through a swamp with his feet getting stuck in the mucky ground.

If this were a dream he would never be able to close in on the light, nor would they want to. The vibe pulsating from it was wicked and repugnant, promising unfathomable torture and pain, they would never come any closer if they had a choice. But none of this deterred him, for he was sure this is where she was kept asleep like the princess in that fairy tale his college roommate-Jasper—made him watch one time. The evil aura would make sense for his mother's sleep was evil if it kept them apart.

Crossing the boundary of Black and Red left him breathless, though the anomaly of a spirit being breathless did not register in his mind, the doll's disappearance didn't register in his mind either. Nor did the surrounding room, which seemed to be filled with a fog that made details fuzzy within the rotunda. Gasping, he pressed his hands on his temples as a pain shot through his head. Minor, though it was, it disoriented him enough that he did not notice the hallway appear where once there was none. Merely the evil seeping into him, wanting to make him sleep, too. At least, that's what he thought, but he tried to focus on staying awake as well as massaging the pain away. No easy task, but it seemed to be effective.

His headache gone, he began walking towards the corridor that he believed held his mother. What it led to was nothing he was prepared for. Another rotunda filled with blood and stone, a round stone that turned along with two thin rings that moved independently of each other; a grinder of sorts, was in the center, stairs in front of it and to his right that led to a sort of catwalk that led to the unknown. He continued to walk until he noticed what laid behind the grinder. It was a giant monster, the flesh(if one could call it that) seemed as if made from spider's silk than flesh, suspended by the pale membrane of skin to the wall and ceiling. It howled out in rage and annoyance as he stopped his movements; standing before it, a look of pure horror carved on his face and widened eyes.

A pain shot through his entire body and he collapsed on the floor. He cried out in agony. This was it. He was going to die before he even saw his mother.

"So, they told you I was your mother, did they?" The feminine voice was filled with venom, contemptuous and vile, It would have been befitting if the disgusting face was snarling, but all It could do was howl with a blank, eyeless face. But all of this went unnoticed by the man before It; whose mind It was reading, seeing deeply into his tormented soul and felt nothing. "He's gotten eleven out of twenty-one…Perhaps _this _time I shall be freed. I suppose I could play along until then."

The pain disappeared as quickly as it came and on shaky legs he stood. His head hung low. He felt shame at coming so far and not getting anywhere. That he was lied to. His mother wasn't here, where here was.

"Walter,"

He raised his head at the utterance of his name. The voice was beautiful. A mother's voice. But where did it come from? His eyes darting around the room for the source.

"Right in front of you, my darling boy." Came the voice.

His eyes landed upon the ghastly thing attached to the wall. Taken aback, he opened his mouth.

"Mother,"

"Yes, Walter. I am your mother. It's good to see you, my son."

A smile graced his lips. "It's wonderful to see you, Mother."

"No, I must look frightful." She said, though her mouth did not move. "But I've felt myself waking up and becoming myself again."

"I've been trying to wake you up, Mother, in a process called 'The Twenty-One Sacraments'. I promise to complete it, Mother. Then we can be together again. This time forever."

"Yes, Walter. Forever." Mirth was evident in her voice making it sweet as bird song heralding the dawn. "I'm so proud of you, Walter. Mommy loves you so very much."

"Mother," Walter's heart soared. He longed to hear those words from her lips for so very long. "I…"

He was interrupted by the feeling of being dragged backwards. He called out to his mother, hand outstretched, hope aching in his heart that she would rescue him from this force pulling him away from her. Yes, she looked frightful, but she was Mother and he loved her no matter what she looked like. He also desperately needed her more than she needed to look like her original, beautiful self at the moment.

But it was no use. His body curved as if something punched his gut, his limbs trailing his torso as if he were falling. The sudden sound of a door slamming brought his mind to silence as he stood there dumbly, letting it register that he was no longer moving and where he was.

"No," He muttered, taking a step towards the door.

"No," He laid his palms and left cheek against the door. He tried the knob, but it did not budge. Locked.

"NO!" He began pounding on the door. _The_ door. The door he ventured to so many times as a young boy to visit his Mother. The door he stood in front of, hoping she would wake up and open it to let him inside and they'd be together and be happy. The door that belonged to apartment number 302.

"NO!" His cry seemed split simultaneously between man and child, though neither seemed to notice nor seem to care. All that mattered was getting back to Mother.

"NO! Mom, please!" They pounded on the door together, both desperate to enter once more and see her.

"PLEASE! MOTHER!"

"MOTHER!"

But the door never relented. Mother never opened it.

"ARGHHH!" The older roared, pounding his fist once more on the door in frustration. "MOTHER! MOTHER, I WILL WAKE YOU UP! YOU HEAR ME? I PROMISE! I WON'T LET YOU DOWN! I SWEAR IT! I SWEAR **I'LL WAKE YOU UP**!"

"Mom, please!" Tears cascaded down the younger's cheeks, staining his blue and white striped shirt. "Let me in!"

Rage boiled in the elder's heart as he stormed down the hallway through memory, though he did not notice that the windows revealed nothing but black void, the complex deserted. No, there was something more important to tend to, to even notice such trivialities, more important than watching over his younger self; whom he left behind at the door. He wasn't necessary for what he had to do. He wasn't even sure why he was there, but that wasn't important, either. So he dropped that question before it truly took root in his mind.

After all, he promised his mother, and it was one he wanted to keep.


End file.
